Played for Suckers
by rurousha
Summary: How to be better together. Sequel to Goodness.


**Played for Suckers**

They spoke for several more hours. It was all hypotheticals and general ideas. Joshua spoke more about Michael and some of the younger angels that might be interested in learning about Earth. Aziraphale told her about recent developments in society that might affect potential divine organization. Both were careful to not make any promises. Still, it was something of a relief for Aziraphale. He had realized some time ago that a very (very) small part of him missed his more directed angelic work and the sense of purpose it gave him. Sure, he still helped now and again with small miracles to aid those around him, but there was no plan to it. It had been both relieving and stressful at the same time these past decades.

It was an engaging conversation. Joshua was thoughtful and soft-spoken, which was something of a change of pace for Aziraphale. Not one he wanted to keep around, but a change none-the-less.

Which was why he rather lost track of the time.

Aziraphale had returned home that morning with the intent to start making plans for Adam's funeral. Crowley had stayed behind in Tadfield with the family to help where he could there. But it wasn't morning anymore. It wasn't even afternoon anymore.

"What the blasted hell?!"

Both Aziraphale and Joshua startled and looked up. Crowley stalked across the garden with such a fury that his fists steamed and he left scorched footprints in the grass behind him.

"What do you think you're doing here, you feathered fuck-arsed - !"

"Crowley, now, Crowley," Aziraphale stood and tried to gesture placatingly.

Joshua immediately disappeared.

Crowley pushed past Aziraphale and kicked the bench where she had been sitting just a second before. The bench skidded back several inches and nearly toppled over.

"He's dead, Aziraphale! Adam's not even cold in the ground yet, and the bastards think they can storm into our home and destroy – "

"No, Crowley, it's not like that at all." Aziraphale set both hands on Crowley's shoulders and made him turn to face him. "She wasn't here to threaten us. Just to talk, I promise my dear."

Crowley took a shuddering breath that was really more of a sob and turned his head to look at Aziraphale properly. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses. Crowley thought they might have melted off when he spotted the other angel in their garden.

Aziraphale cupped both sides of Crowley's face and traced soothing circles on Crowley's cheekbones with his thumbs. Crowley's eyes were blood-shot, making the gold irises look small and dull. He had been crying. "She just wanted to talk," he whispered. "No harm."

Crowley shuddered again and then wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist and dropped his head onto his angel's shoulder. "He's gone, angel," Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale's coat. "They're all gone, now."

"I know, my dear." Aziraphale stroked the back of Crowley's head with one hand and slid the other around his waist. "I know. And I'm so sorry."

They had lost so many people in the past few years. Shadwell and Madame Tracy had been first. Then Warlock. Newt. Anathema. Brian, Wensleydale, Pepper. Most of their spouses and a few of their children. And finally Adam. Beautiful, stubborn Adam had lived to be over a hundred years old, but he was still only mortal.

In the past, Crowley and Aziraphale had both been more careful. Friendships with humans were only allowed to last a few decades, at the most. It was too painful to watch them each age and die. But Anathema and Adam would hear none of that. They insisted that Crowley and Aziraphale were part of the family and wouldn't let the two of them distance themselves. Even Warlock, after they had reconnected, made them come to his daughter's plays in grade school and, later, her one-woman shows.

Not that they had objected much. Except to the one-woman shows.

"Let's come inside, my dear." Aziraphale turned to guide them towards the cottage. "We'll get some tea. Then you will tell me how the family is doing, and I will explain what happened."

* * *

Crowley took it better than Aziraphale thought he would.

"So Heaven wants you back?" Crowley tapped two fingers on the dining table where he was seated. He was tapping somewhat harder than was strictly necessary.

Aziraphale stood in the kitchen and nervously twisted a tea towel in his hands. "No. Nothing that drastic. Just giving advice to some angels. Telling them about Earth and helping them to understand humans. That's all. Just talking."

"And it's something you want to do?"

"Maybe? Or, yes, rather. Yes, I do."

Crowley nodded, frowning. "Something you'd probably like. Drag unsuspecting angels around, show 'em your favorite galleries and restaurants and call it education." He was trying for teasing, but he wouldn't meet Aziraphale's eyes. "And if, someday, you could go back to Heaven…?"

The tension in Aziraphale's shoulders softened. He realized the angry tapping hadn't been angry. It was anxious. He set the tea towel down and took a seat across the table. He took Crowley's hand in both of his. "You know full well that Heaven hasn't been home for me in a very long time. Nothing will change the fact that home is with you, you ridiculous old serpent." He kissed Crowley's knuckles and then rubbed the back of his hand.

Crowley sniffed in an effort to cover up the fact that he was about to start crying again.

"But, honestly," Aziraphale continued, "the option to, I don't know, visit one day might be nice. Mend some fences, and all that. After all, better to have friends than enemies. Especially divine ones."

Crowley nodded again, this time without the frowning. "Well, if we're being honest, then, you should probably know that I'vekindofalreadybeenmentoringsomedemons."

Aziraphale dropped Crowley's hand in surprise. "Sorry, what?"

"I may have already been giving advice to some of the younger demons in the area. A few times."

"There have been demons in our house?" Aziraphale looked thunderous.

"No! Of course not. They've been in the coffee shop in town."

Aziraphale made a strangled little noise that might have been a scoff. He stood and started angrily fussing with his waist coat.

"They've never been here or even in the garden," Crowley defended. "Never when you were around. And definitely never the day after a loved one died, because apparently even demons have more tact than angels."

Aziraphale snorted a chuckle. Crowley was glad Aziraphale was appreciating the humor. He didn't like it when they were angry at each other.

"How long?" Aziraphale asked.

"Few years. That sewer monster in 2022 was the first one."

"Crowley, that was _decades_ ago. How often are they around? And how many?"

"Just every few months, that's all. And there's only been about twenty of them. Thirty at the most. Sometimes the same ones come back. They just needed some guidance every now and then is all. Most of them were really quite incompetent."

Aziraphale leaned back heavily against the table, nearly sitting on it. He buried his face in his hands. Crowley held still in his seat, waiting for the shouting to start up properly. Or worse, crying. He chose to ignore the fact that he had been the one shouting and even crying just a half hour prior.

But it didn't come. Instead, Crowley realized that what he had initially thought were sobs were actually muffled laughs.

"What's funny, angel?"

"You are such a mum," Aziraphale mumbled into his hands.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Crowley asked dangerously. He stood slowly, with menace. Because he was a very menacing person, and Aziraphale should be quaking in fear at the amount of trouble he was in.

Instead, Aziraphale dropped his hands and looked directly at Crowley, his eyes alight with humor and mischief. He had that beautiful smile that Crowley hated so much. "You," Aziraphale said, prodding Crowley in the chest, "are such a mum."

"You take that back right now. I mean it. I am a terrible, wily demon from Hell, and you won't like what happens if you don't take that back right now."

Aziraphale completely ignored him and danced around the room, clutching at his chest as if there were pearls there. "Oh Mister Crowley, won't you help us? We don't know what to do now that our bosses aren't holding our hands and telling us to get ready for war."

"Hey, now, that's not what happened." Crowley chose to ignore that that was almost exactly what happened. More than once.

But Aziraphale wasn't done, the bastard. He swooned dramatically onto Crowley's shoulder. "Please teach us how to tempt people. Oh, please, Mister Crowley."

That was it! Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by his lapels and threw him onto his back on the table. It was all very hostile and not at all intimate. Now if he could only convince Aziraphale of that, but the monster was just smiling at him. Arsehole angel.

"I hate you," Crowley growled.

"You don't." Aziraphale cupped the back of his head with one hand and stroked through his hair.

After that, the demon dragged his angel off to punish him properly.


End file.
